Zahra's legs trembled as she pushed herself up from the sterile floor of the medical ward.
Her dark hair fell in tangled waves around her face, partially obscuring the thin scar along her jaw—a reminder of the day she arrived. The hospital gown hung loose on her frame, hiding the strength she'd maintained despite weeks of confinement.
Her yellow eyes, sharp and calculating, scanned the room with practiced precision.
The absence of Thisbe created an opportunity. But timing would be everything.
Zahra's gaze drifted to the security cameras mounted in each corner of the ward—sleek, black devices that moved in an intricate dance of surveillance.
Seven seconds of movement. Ten seconds of observation. Four corners. Three to four cameras per corner. Unsynchronized.
She committed the pattern to memory. Above, through the reinforced glass ceiling panels, shadows of something massive shifted against the darkness.
"So paranoid... for what," she muttered, barely above a whisper. "That has to be a mystical…" The word caught in her throat—a flash of memory from her first encounter with the creature.
Using the bed for support, she made her way to the adjacent cot. Its occupant, a young man with bandages wrapping his left arm like a mummy, looked up at her with glazed eyes.
"Hi! What's your story, Skill?" Zahra asked with forced cheer, even as her eyes tracked the camera movements.
Frustration simmered beneath her tone—she'd been planning this for weeks. Everything had to go exactly right.
"Wa-water," the patient croaked, but Zahra was already dropping to her hands and knees, sliding beneath the bed.
"Eight, nine…" she counted under her breath, timing her movements with the cameras' rotation. The cold floor pressed against her palms as she crawled, staying hidden in the shadows cast by the beds above.
Through the gaps, she glimpsed Thisbe turning toward her empty bed. The nurse paused, then did a double-take. Her usual calm cracked with confusion.
Zahra allowed herself a small smile. By the time the alarm went up, it would be too late.
"Two... three..." she whispered, propelling herself forward in quick, controlled movements. Years of training taught her how to move silently, efficiently—like a shadow.
[Floor 1307]
As Zahra navigated her escape above, a different kind of dance played out above, where the stem of the building pierced the clouds. Aether moved through a choreography of survival.
His lean, muscular frame flowed around the practice dummy with increasing grace. He was adapting to moving without his arm, though the occasional misstep showed. Sweat glistened on his brow as he dropped low, sweeping the dummy's feet with practiced precision.
The automaton backflipped, whirring as it reset its stance, but Aether was already in motion—launching upward with a spring from his legs, landing cleanly in a fighting position. Each movement was deliberate. Each step placed with purpose.
"What are you doing up so late?" Sir Eadric Silver-Shield's voice cut through the night as he descended from the stone gazebo. His silver-streaked hair caught the moonlight. His weathered face held the concern of a mentor who knew his student too well.
"I was trying to—" Aether began, then stopped. "Sleepwalking. Yes. Sleepwalk."
[Medical Ward]
Back in the ward, Zahra's careful plan collided with unexpected interference. A staff member stepped into her path, his pristine white coat a stark contrast to the shadows she hid in.
"You left your bed," he said, reaching into his pocket. "And you left this..." He pulled out a strange ring, its surface catching the dim light.
He paused. "Look, just bring out your palm." His voice had an edge.
"Why?" Zahra muttered inwardly.
"You aren't branded, are you? Hurry before Thisbe comes back!"
"Sir, I feel—" Zahra began, but was cut off by a violent tremor from above. The ceiling groaned. Shadows loomed through the reinforced panels.
"That damn monster," the man growled, glancing upward. "Can it shut down for a full hour…"
Zahra seized the moment. She launched toward the transport tube. "Up!" she commanded, her voice like glass. He grabbed at her, but the tube's jaws slammed shut—catching his hand. Glass cracked. Blood splattered.
"Aaargh!" His scream tore through the silence, jagged and raw, until another staff member lunged forward, clamping a hand over his mouth. His fingers pressed hard, stifling the sound. His eyes darted to the beds, hoping the patients remained asleep.
The tube activated. Zahra shot upward at dizzying speed. But something was wrong.
The soft blue glow began to fade, replaced by creeping darkness that consumed the light.
"How big is the being again…" she murmured. Memories surged.
She pressed her hands to the vibrating walls. The metal's hum reminded her of her arrival, of the Eye. The gag they'd used left deep bruises. But the deeper wounds were mental. The guards had sneered, sure she was another failure.
"Alright, we're testing the new patient with the Eye!" the guards sneered.
They hadn't known what she was capable of. They hadn't known the years she spent studying, the languages she'd cracked, how she built her story skill. The riddles weren't just tests. They were keys.
The darkness thickened, pressing inward. Zahra felt it trying to find a crack in her will. But the ring in her hand pulsed with warmth, its symbols glowing faintly—pushing the shadows back.
Her knees hit the ground. The present bled into memory.
[Flashback]
"Clever girl," the Eye's voice echoed in the dark. "You worked it out. The riddles. The deaths. The tests. All pieces of a larger puzzle."
Zahra stood firm. The Eye loomed, massive and alive. Its pupil contracted, focused on her.
"The first riddle," she said, voice steady, "wasn't about knowledge. It was about sacrifice."
The Eye's laugh changed—less mockery, more interest. "Go on."
"'What grows smaller the more it takes, yet cannot live without consumption?'" she recited. "The answer isn't hope. It's choice."
The shadows around her swirled. Above, the tube's end neared. But the Eye wasn't done.
"And the second riddle?" it asked, blocking out the light.
Zahra's grip on the ring tightened. "I'm done playing. Each riddle you give, each answer… they're not tests. They're transactions. The guards didn't die because they failed—they died because they succeeded the wrong way."
Silence. Then—the Eye's pupil shifted. The shadows trembled.
"Finally," it whispered, both pleased and menacing. "Someone who understands the price of knowledge."
The ring in her hand turned cold. The symbols faded. Its power spent.
But Zahra didn't need it anymore. She understood. The Eye wasn't her enemy. It was her examiner. And she'd passed.
"The third riddle," she said, straightening, "is mine to ask."
The darkness parted like a curtain. The path to freedom lay ahead. But she knew better now. This wasn't escape. It was graduation.
She sighed as she thought, "Was it really worth coming here to deal with this?"
[Present]
"You're back!" the Eye boomed, its pupil expanding to fill her vision. "You'd think they'd have given you your own department, but here you are again."
Zahra smiled, defiant. Her heart thundered, but her voice remained steady. "You really are funny."
The darkness pressed in, but she didn't flinch. This time, she had her objective.
The Eye's laughter shook the void. "Hahhahahaha! I can't wait to kill you!"
But Zahra had already pulled the stolen ring from her pocket—the one she'd swiped during the struggle.
The shadows recoiled like smoke in wind.
The race was on.
Freedom lay above, past the Eye, past the dark.
And this time, Zahra wouldn't let anything stop her.
"Help me like last time," she whispered, kissing the ring unknowingly.
"Conocimiento est ist der clé et você benedetto conそれ." The text appears yet again, and dissipating like smoke.